‘You have been here many, many times, when I have not seen you, Little Dorrit?’
‘Yes, I have been here sometimes when I have not come into the room.’
‘Very often?’
‘Rather often,’ said Little Dorrit, timidly.
‘Every day?’
‘I think,’ said Little Dorrit, after hesitating, ‘that I have been here at least twice every day.’
He might have released the little light hand after fervently kissing it again; but that, with a very gentle lingering where it was, it seemed to court being retained. He took it in both of his, and it lay softly on his breast.
‘Dear Little Dorrit, it is not my imprisonment only that will soon be over. This sacrifice of you must be ended. We must learn to part again, and to take our different ways so wide asunder. You have not forgotten what we said together, when you came back?’
‘O no, I have not forgotten it. But something has been—You feel quite strong to-day, don’t you?’
‘Quite strong.’